


After A Night Of Tequila

by Audriss



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Fluff, Hangover, Humor, Morning After, Tequila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23698657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audriss/pseuds/Audriss
Summary: Beth wakes up in a strange bedroom, on a bed with a pillow fort.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 26
Kudos: 69





	After A Night Of Tequila

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cc5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cc5/gifts).



She woke up to the sunlight hitting her eyes brutally through the haphazardly closed curtains. Her first thought was had she forgotten to shut the blinds, but then she groaned out loud and grumbled softly about it. It had rained for more than two weeks straight and now, after she had went with Maggie and some of their friends to the bar and get deadass wasted, the sun decided it was the perfect time to show its face.

The bed was lumpy and strange underneath her and she didn’t recognize the dark brown ceiling of the room she woke up in. Something in her hazy mind told her that she wasn’t in danger, but she still practically jumped out of her skin and sat up.

She looked down at her clothing.

A jean shirt that was several sizes too big for her and buttoned backwards on her; her legs were bare and she was still wearing her panties. Her neon pink toenails stared at her judgingly. 

Beth closed her eyes for a second trying to regain some semblance of a memory. There was a black hole in her mind from what had happened last night. Opening her eyes, frustrated with herself, she looked around, trying to deduce where she had been holed up for the night. 

The bedroom was slightly disheveled, some clothes here and there on the floor and on the chair that sat in front of the window. Her shoes, black heels that were uncomfortable to even look at, and her purse were on it; placed there perfectly like precious items in a museum. 

Definitely not Jimmy’s place then.

A large mirror on top of a chest of drawers was dirty and the frame of it was tattered, even chipped.

Not any of her girlfriends, either.

Her eyes shifted down onto the chest of drawers, and she saw a large, heavy looking, crossbow resting on top of it, with two or three knives and a pair of heavy leather gloves, belt and a gun.

She shuddered, and eliminated Zack from her list of places. Which was good, to be quite honest.

She felt the corners of her mouth draw down and he brow furrow, despite all the times her aunt had told her not to make faces in order not to get wrinkles. Where the hell was she?!

Almost reluctantly she looked to her left and saw a pile of pillows and a shape of a person underneath the tattered blanket and sheet. His hair was a mess, with a round earlobe playing peek-a-boo from underneath, bare broad shoulders peeked from underneath the off-white sheet and his back was turned at her. He was holding up a phone and he seemed to be reading the news on it. 

“Ain’t got to worry, we didn’t hook up,” the person replied, almost as if he had managed to read her mind. 

Her eyes flew wide open as she watched the man next to her, behind a pile of pillows, sit up from the bed and toss the phone on the sheet, between his legs. 

“W-We didn’t?” she asked, with a hoarse voice, “Oh, thank God.”

She hadn’t meant it to sound so relieved, but she was, and it had just poured out of her mouth just like that.

“Hmph…” the man huffed, almost amused, and turned to look at her, “You took off your clothes to go skinny dipping,” he said, and Beth immediately recognized him to be the blue eyed patron at the Backwater Bar she had been looking at all evening. 

Daryl Dixon. 

Now she understood the collection of weapons in the bedroom. The younger Dixon brother was working as a Ranger half of the year somewhere up North, and half of it as a bouncer and bartender at the Backwater Bar owned by his older brother Merle Dixon.

“Really?” she asked, frowning, her hands touching the front of the too big of a jean shirt.

“You girls started in on the tequila… and it all went downhill from there. You wouldn’t get dressed… so I buttoned you in backwards,” Daryl said, and gestured towards the choice of clothing on her. 

She realized it was his shirt, and his handiwork. She had been drunk out of her mind and probably behaved out of character as well. Her cheeks flushed in a heartbeat and her eyes were probably reflecting the panic inside of her.

“Shut up…” she breathed at him, and watched him nod as an affirmative. 

She shifted, getting into a better sitting position, and leaned slightly closer to Daryl, who was also sitting, hunched over, and leaning against his thighs. 

“So… um… let me get this straight. I came onto you at the bar. Somehow ended up at a beach? Got naked and went skinny dipping and then… crawled into your bed, also naked?”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, chewing his bottom lip, looking embarrassed. 

“And then, I tried to molest you? So you made a straitjacket from a… uh… shirt, and a pillow fort to protect yourself?” Beth asked still wide eyed, pointing at the shirt she was wearing, that indeed looked like a straitjacket. 

“Yeah.”

“Oh, my God, I’ve hit rock bottom…” she bemoaned and buried her face to her palms, brushing the collar of the jean shirt that was poking up aside. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. We were pretty out of our heads anyway, and I like to think I’m a good guy, so…” Daryl said and shrugged his shoulders. 

“You were drinking too?” Beth asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, wasn’t exactly workin’ last night. Just having fun,” he replied, and scrunched up the sheet and tossed it onto the foot end of the bed. At least he was wearing joggers for decency’s sake. 

“So, you needed the pillows to resist me?” Beth inquired, out of breath.

“Let’s say I was hedging my willpower…” he mumbled, also with flushed cheeks.

Beth blinked once or twice, looking up at the guy she barely knew, who was clearly older than she was and also, had seen her naked but not had tried to - - do stuff, without her consent. 

“I guess, that means you really are a good guy….” she murmured, admitting it wasn’t exactly something she had expected. Daryl Dixon and Merle Dixon had a reputation. Merle Dixon was known for his grabby hands, and Beth had felt him slap her behind more than once when she was out with the girls at the bar. 

Daryl scoffed, sounding like half a chuckle, and fiddling with his phone. It was an awkward situation, at best. She didn’t know exactly what to say to him. A moment of silence didn’t last too long, though. She tensed suddenly and looked at Daryl

“What happened to my friends and my sister?” she asked.

“Your sister went home with that Asian kid. Your friends… I think they are sleeping off their booze soaked brains in the living room,” Daryl replied and jabbed his thumb towards the door. 

“Right… I’m gonna kill Maggie,” she said, it came out so calm and collected that it surprised even herself, “Wait… you brought all of us here to sober up?” 

“Hmm…” Daryl mumbled, rubbing his fingers against the palm of his hand.

“That… must have been fun…” she whispered, arching her brow. Maybe he had been hoping to get into bed with at least one of them. And not in a pillow fort kind of a way. 

“Like jammin’ squid into a bottle,” he chortled, and looked at her, “Couldn’t leave all y’all at the beach, drunk outta your minds.”

She gave him a look of gratitude and smiled, nodding a little. Maybe it hadn’t been a bad thing to go out, get drunk and wake up in a strange bedroom in a straitjacket fashioned out of an oversized jean shirt. 

“I'm going to take a shower,” Beth said, then, “Where… where is it?” she asked. 

“O’er there,” Daryl said, gesturing towards the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom of his.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. It is fluff.


End file.
